


Tangled Up In You

by LaKoda0518



Series: 2018 Advent Ficlet Challenge [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: 2018 advent ficlet challenge, Awesome Mrs. Hudson, Christmas Fluff, Declarations Of Love, First Kiss, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Mrs. Hudson Ships It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-09-05 20:01:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16817473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaKoda0518/pseuds/LaKoda0518
Summary: Sherlock heaved a sigh of frustration as he slumped down in John’s chair, openly groaning out his displeasure. His own chair had been shoved out of its usual spot to make room for the Christmas tree John had brought down from the attic. He glared at the doctor who was sitting on the rug with a large mess of tangled up Christmas tree lights in front of him - the artificial evergreen monstrosity taking up the entire corner to the right of the fireplace. John’s jaw was set and he stared down at the jumbled up mess in agitation as he tried his best to untangle them. The detective had never seen the point in decorating for the holidays. Typically, he would rant and rave about the ridiculousness of the whole ordeal until John gave up and threw everything back into the attic just to shut him up, but this year was different. This year, John was going all out for his daughter, Rosamund.





	Tangled Up In You

**Author's Note:**

> This is Prompt #1 (Christmas Decor) for the 2018 Advent Ficlet Challenge! This will be a series of drabbles throughout the month of December featuring Sherlock and John. Some of these will be fluffy, some will be sexy, and some will be downright smutty because why not? lol Rated Explicit for later additions. I can't wait to participate in this and see what comes out of it :) I'm always up for prompts and challenges and this seemed like so much fun. A special shoutout to CarmillaCarmine for the suggestion <3 Enjoy!

Sherlock heaved a sigh of frustration as he slumped down in John’s chair, openly groaning out his displeasure. His own chair had been shoved out of its usual spot to make room for the Christmas tree John had brought down from the attic. He glared at the doctor who was sitting on the rug with a large mess of tangled up Christmas tree lights in front of him - the artificial evergreen monstrosity taking up the entire corner to the right of the fireplace. John’s jaw was set and he stared down at the jumbled up mess in agitation as he tried his best to untangle them. The detective had never seen the point in decorating for the holidays. Typically, he would rant and rave about the ridiculousness of the whole ordeal until John gave up and threw everything back into the attic just to shut him up, but this year was different. This year, John was going all out for his daughter, Rosamund.

As much as Sherlock despised the whole idea of Christmas and all of the nonsensical sentiment that came with it, he found that he was in fact quite partial to the smallest Watson and had decided against arguing about the decorations for her sake. At two years old, this was to be her first proper Christmas, after all, since she spent much of the last one asleep on John’s shoulder. 

Stretching his legs out in front of him and crossing his bare feet one over the other, he let out another heavy sigh and slumped even further in the unfamiliar chair. “Bored,” he groaned out as his flatmate rolled his eyes and shot him a heated look.

“Bored. Really? That’s seriously all you have to say, right now?” the doctor asked, the irritation evident in his voice. The detective only huffed out a puff of air in response. “Well, if you’re that miserably ‘bored’, you could come down here and give me a hand with this mess. Oh, wait! Sorry, I forgot; you’re too bloody useless and irritating to do anything except sulk and complain to me about how miserable you are over absolutely nothing!” John shouted, slinging the tangled up lights in his hands toward his moping flatmate before leaning back on his hands to stretch his back and close his eyes.

Sherlock stared at the lights as they landed next to his feet - seeming indifferent to his friend’s sudden outburst - and his interest peaked. He sat up in the chair and leaned forward to pull them up into his lap. The detective studied the intricate patterns the strands of lights were woven into and began tugging and testing each strand until he found the loosest set. Within a few minutes, he had freed one string of lights from the pile and dropped them gently next to John’s folded knees, catching the doctor off-guard. John blinked stupidly at the strand of lights and then glanced up at his friend who had already moved on to untangling the next set of lights without a second thought.

The taller man worked his long, violinist’s fingers over the knots and tangles, focusing on freeing up one strand at a time. ‘ _ Typical, brilliant Sherlock…’  _ John thought to himself as he picked up the loose strand of lights and got to his feet. It would have been endearing if he wasn’t always so agitated by him. For a moment, he considered saying ‘Thank you’, but it was highly unlikely that Sherlock would answer him anyway. The doctor was making his way over to the Christmas tree in the corner when Sherlock’s voice broke the comfortable silence. 

“Start stringing from the bottom,” he directed, not glancing up from his newest puzzle. He almost had a second set free, John noticed. 

“Ok?” he replied, the word more of a question as he searched Sherlock’s face for a more elaborate explanation. He had a slight inclination as to where this conversation might be heading and he wasn’t having any of it.

At the hint of confusion in his friend’s tone, the detective looked up to see John eyeing him as if he hadn’t understood the simple instruction. Sherlock truly didn’t see how he could have made his point any clearer, but he cleared his throat to explain anyway. “Begin by stringing the lights from the bottom-most branches,” he began, enunciating his speech in an extremely articulate, albeit insulting, manner. “If you space them out properly, - do be careful with this; you usually overdo it at the start - you should be able to cover a large majority of the tree on your own before you begin cursing your inadequate height and try to talk me into finishing the tallest parts for you, so that you don’t have to embarrass yourself by getting a chair to stand in,”.

John felt the anger rise in his face before his mind could even register what was coming out of his mouth. “My inadequate height... You’re serious?” the doctor’s frustration was mounting as he tried and failed to keep the venom out of his voice. These sorts of things between Sherlock and himself had always been this way, but, lately, John was finding it harder to deal with. He had a pretty good idea why that was the case, but the thought only made him even angrier because it should have been much simpler than the constant bickering that had become their new normal. “Of course, you’re serious because you’re perfect, aren’t you? You can be a dick all day long and everyone just gives you a pass because you’re Sherlock and that’s just how you are. I hate to burst your bubble, but I’m pretty tired of always letting your antics slide. You sulk, you complain, you take my things without asking, just like you did before you…” John’s words faltered and he closed his eyes to refocus his thoughts. “Before you left! Now, I know you put up with a lot having both Rosie and me back here, but that doesn’t give you the right to keep acting out like this. I’ve tried my best to be everything you could ever need in a flatmate and I stand by every promise I’ve ever made to you. I said I forgave you for everything that had happened between us and I do, but some days - certain times of the year - are much harder than others, so I would appreciate it if you gave me a little credit every once in a bloody while,” he finished as his speech wavered; his emotions threatening to betray him.

The detective winced slightly at the harshness of his friend’s words. They weren’t entirely true - he had been doing more to try to show respect and appreciation for his flatmate, after all - and Sherlock knew that John was only reacting this way out of stress from the pressure the holidays were piling on.  _ And people wonder why I don’t like to celebrate these sorts of things… _ He cleared his throat and raised up from the chair, stepping over the pile of lights until he was standing in front of the doctor. 

“You’re right, John. I can be quite unbearable to live with and have been very much set in my own ways for far too long. I apologise for my behavior and I promise to do more to help you through this,” Sherlock spoke quietly and inclined his head as he stepped around John, whose expression was more or less dumbfounded, and took the string of lights from his hand. Crouching down in front of the tree, he heard the clunking of small feet coming up the stairs before the sitting room door was flung open. Rosie rushed into the room and bounded toward John as Mrs. Hudson bustled in behind her.

“Daddy!” the little girl shouted, wrapping her arms tightly around John’s legs; a smile spreading across his face, melting away any remaining traces of his annoyance, as he patted her springy, blonde curls. 

“Hello, love, how are you? Did you have a good day?” As his daughter nodded her head, she leaned around his legs to stare at the tree behind him. John followed her gaze and his smile widened even more, “Oh! I brought the Christmas tree down from the attic, today. I thought we might decorate it together now that you’re home from your outing,”.

Mrs. Hudson approached then, kissing the doctor on his cheek and smiling at the pair with a gleam in her eye, “Oh, John, what a wonderful idea! I’m sure you’re going to enjoy that, Rosie dear,”. Their landlady caught sight of Sherlock as he rose from his crouch and she raised her eyes to his as she made her way over to him, pausing when she took in the string of lights in his hands. Her face lit up then and she rushed to bundle him up in a hug. “Well, Sherlock, just look at you! What is John Watson doing to you, hmm?” she said as she kissed his cheek, as well, and then gestured to the lights. Before the detective could answer, she was talking on once again. “Sherlock Holmes, decorating a Christmas tree! Does my heart good to see you doing something like this. Whatever it is you’re doing, John, keep doing it. I never thought I would see the day that he would do anything to even acknowledge Christmas that didn’t involve playing that violin,”.

Sherlock closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose with his free hand, “Hello to you, too, Mrs. Hudson. As pleased as I am to know that you are happy with my participation, I wasn’t actually helping to decorate anything. John merely needed assistance untangling the lights and I was only trying to help… for Rosie, that is,”. His voice came out lower than he’d expected and he was suddenly painfully aware of the fact that he was still in his pajama pants, t-shirt, and dressing gown in the middle of the afternoon as Mrs. Hudson gave him an overly knowing look.

“Oh, yes, that’s always you, isn’t it, dear? Anything for John Watson. So, anything for Rosie, too,” she let out a chuckle and placed her hand on his cheek. Sherlock felt the heat rise in his cheeks in an instant and he didn’t have to look to know that John was staring at them, now. “Not to worry, my boy, I see you settling into domesticity and it truly does suit you, contrary to what you may believe. I always knew you had a thing for him, since the first day you brought him here, if I’m honest. There’s no mistaking the look of a man in love,” her voice was warm and full of love as she patted his cheek and gave him a wink before turning back to tell John and Rosie goodbye. Sherlock didn’t even register she was leaving until the door clicked closed behind her; his mind was racing and he felt like he had just been flayed open for all to see. Yes, he had been much happier having John back at Baker Street. Yes, he enjoyed spending time with Rosie and watching John grow as a father to her, especially, but he had rather thought that he was doing well at not allowing those emotions to become too prominent. 

Sherlock shook his head to clear his thoughts and glanced up to meet John’s gaze. His expression was curious, but cautious in a way that the detective had never seen directed at himself until now. Before he could analyse it, though, Rosie squealed, breaking the deafening silence in the room and drawing their attention to her as she grasped the bundle of lights, pulling individual strands and knotting her fingers in them. 

“Rosie help!” she exclaimed and ran quickly around John’s legs before he could realise what was happening. 

“Rosie, wait! Don’t do that!” he tried not to shout and reached to grab the little girl, but she dodged just out of his reach before taking a sharp turn around Sherlock’s legs, as well. 

As she tangled the lights around them both, Sherlock reached out a hand in an attempt to catch her before he fell forward; his long legs unable to maneuver properly in their bindings. Before he could catch himself, he was falling directly into John, his weight overpowering the shorter man, as they both crashed to the floor in a tangle of arms and legs while Rosie giggled with glee. The detective struggled for a moment, trying to free himself, but froze when his cheek made contact with John’s lips. 

The doctor was lying perfectly still with his head turned slightly toward his flatmate’s face, staring at him intently. Sherlock drew back and avoided John’s gaze, but the doctor’s hand on his shoulder kept him from pulling away completely. He stared at John’s chin and was surprised at the slight shudder that rippled through him when his friend’s tongue darted out to wet his own lips before he spoke.

“Sherlock…? All that stuff that Mrs. Hudson just said… is it true?” he asked, his voice calm but slightly shaky. He was just as nervous as Sherlock was.

The detective sucked in a breath and pressed his lips into a flat line as he looked his flatmate in the eye again. John’s expression was full of surprise and seemed almost hopeful; so much so that Sherlock couldn’t find the words to describe the growing ache in his chest. Surely he was reading this all wrong. John couldn’t possibly feel that way about him… 

When the detective didn’t reply, John moved his hand to caress a prominent cheekbone, “Please, tell me… and be honest with me,”. His whispered request pushed Sherlock out of his comfort zone as he let out a nervous sigh. 

“Y-Yes, John… everything she said. All true,”. There. All out in the open now and there was no turning back…

John’s heart seemed to skip a beat as a wide grin threatened to split his features, and he took Sherlock’s face in both of his hands as he looked him directly in the eyes. “You’re sure? You promise me?” he asked, longing for reassurance.

Sherlock’s skin felt hot beneath John’s calloused hands and he could feel his friend’s breath ghosting over his face. He couldn’t force his mind to form the words his mouth was so desperate to say as he found himself lost in the doctor’s navy blue gaze. The detective blinked once and nodded his head in hopes that it would be enough.

What happened next sent Sherlock’s Mind Palace spinning into oblivion and his heart nearly beat right out of his chest. John’s eyes widened and he smiled the most brilliant smile that Sherlock had ever seen before he pulled the detective closer to him, pressing their lips together in a hungry kiss. 

Sherlock felt as if all the air had been sucked out of his lungs and his hands flew up into the thick strands of John’s hair, trying desperately to pull him closer. The doctor’s hands were roaming all over the long expanse of his back and he felt his blunt fingers clawing at the fabric of the dressing gown falling off of his shoulders as John’s tongue sought to deepen their kiss. Sherlock parted his lips slightly, allowing John to claim his mouth. He felt his flatmate nip and suck gently at his bottom lip and Sherlock was certain his brain had all but short-circuited. 

After a moment, John pulled back slowly, pressing soft, chaste kisses to his cheeks as Sherlock caught his breath. Rosie’s giggles drew him back to reality and he blinked open his eyes to stare down into John’s smiling face. The little girl flopped down on top of them where they lay in a tangled heap on the floor and John’s chest rumbled with a laugh that warmed Sherlock’s entire body. 

“Well, who’s ready to untangle these lights again and decorate that Christmas tree?” John asked, his voice loud and joyful as he glanced between Rosie and the detective. He chuckled warmly again as Rosie threw her arms around his neck and shouted, “Me!!”, as loud as she possibly could. 

Sherlock raised up off of John’s chest, suddenly feeling as if he were intruding on the moment, and set to unwrapping the lights from his legs at the knees. The doctor shifted and sat up beside him, as well, his hand closing over one of Sherlock’s to get his attention.

As the taller man turned to face him, John didn’t even try to hide the look of affection and adoration on his face as he leaned in to nuzzle Sherlock’s cheek. “We’ll pick up where we left off after I put Rosie to bed tonight… would you like that?” his low voice was a whisper in Sherlock’s ear as he squeezed his hand. 

The blush crept up the detective’s cheeks once again and he swallowed the lump of nerves in his throat, “Yes, of course… whatever you’d like”. His voice was breathy and quiet, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. John Watson had kissed him and Sherlock could feel the walls in his Mind Palace expanding, documenting new sensations, new memories, and hopes for more Christmases spent together.

  
  
  
  
  



End file.
